the walls,
the walls and rooms becoming
harsh cold rocky caves.
warm living rooms
hopeless and empty.
not time to relax and
sit back. Always a constant
nagging- this is wrong,
redo this, fix this,
your late for curfew,
the opposite of egotistcal,
instead a self conscious.
It comes in, and settles deep
deep within the burrow of
my wandering mind with
legs of its own. I can
never let this go...
constant question in my head.
replay and rewinding flipping
and poking fun at my,
every move.
the walls,
the walls. No longer my
safe comforting room,
instead a musty dark jail.
Holding me captive I stay,
with no choice I stay,
with no choice I come back.
Hope is gone from my
starved ribs. The house is
quiet but I'm awake.
House is equal to a sacred
jail, bad locked on the inside,
and good hidden visibly
on the front lawn.
Nothing is wrong here...
except everything, and nothing
to be said.
The walls,
the walls, suffocating
closing, increasingly closer
i will break out and
when i do, no choice for you,
but to watch. I may get hurt-
i can always try. Strike!
Strike in,
Strike me down,
but don't hear me go.
Its okay for you, but
not for me? I laugh at good, and
grimace at evil, it can chase
and sometimes catch
me, who just wanted to be
Alone. In,
The walls,
The walls, covered in writing
of my words gone,
and unnoticed.